


I Wanna Grow Old With You

by TheMightyChipmunk



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Piningjolras, So yeah, Stupid Boys being Stupid, some drunk!Enjolras, this is my first fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:57:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1381579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyChipmunk/pseuds/TheMightyChipmunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is in love with Grantaire. Grantaire is in love with Enjolras. Of course, neither knows. Yeah, that's it. That's the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wanna Grow Old With You

                Grantaire loved working at the Musain. It was close to home; the pay wasn’t complete shit; he was friends with the boss, Musichetta, so he was often scheduled to work shifts with Eponine; and it also meant he got to stare at his Apollo with complete abandon, safely hidden by the giant espresso machine. 

                “You know everyone can see you staring, R,” Eponine said as she walked behind the counter, tying her apron around her waist, “It verges on creepy.” Grantaire grumbled under his breath but didn’t dare say anything louder. The weekly meeting was in full swing and Grantaire didn’t want any unnecessary attention shifted to him, just yet. He contented himself with further cleaning the counter that was already painfully clean from the previous twenty minutes of his ministrations. He really needed to start working harder. There was just so little motivation to move from this spot, where he didn’t have to strain to hear the dulcet tones of Enjolras’ voice as he rambled on about whatever pointless crusade he endeavored upon this time. It didn’t take much maneuvering to see the impassioned gleam in his eyes, the captivating blush in his cheeks, the rigid and yet relaxed curve of his posture that only came with years of public speaking; all of the factors that made Grantaire sometimes legitimately wonder if there was more to the nickname ‘Apollo’ than just Grantaire being a facetious asshole, that he had to be a god walking amongst men.

                “I’m serious Grantaire. Stop being a creep and help me do our job, dammit.” Eponine said a little too loud for Grantaire’s liking, but he walked over to her nonetheless and they spent the rest of the meeting actually being productive. He actually got so caught up in inventory that he didn’t realize the whole thing was over until Enjolras cleared his throat from the counter, waiting to be served. Grantaire looked up from his notepad, flustered, as he looked around for Eponine. Of course, she was sitting at a table in the back with Combeferre, talking in hushed – wait, was she _flirting_ with Combeferre? They were definitely sitting closer than just friends would, and _holy god her hand was on his knee_. That was new… Shit, she was a braver person than he.

                “Sorry, man, I thought Ep was working the counter,” he said in a rushed apology as he walked over to Enjolras. He wiped his hands on his jeans because Enjolras just smiled at him _kindly_ and all of a sudden they felt really sweaty, “What can I get for you tonight, Apollo?”

                Enjolras rolled his eyes but surprisingly didn’t make any comment on the nickname he'd made very clear he detested ( _Gods are cruel and foolish and most importantly they view themselves as ABOVE everyone else, Grantaire! They are literally representative of every ideal I argue against! Why must this be the term you burden me with?_ To which he had responded, _because you’re all golden and righteous and beautiful and stuff._ Admittedly not his best argument, but it did adequately make Enjolras a very pretty shade of red).  

              “Just a double shot espresso, thanks.” He sounded tired. And sad. What were they talking about the meeting again? Did something make Enjolras sad?

                “Ugh, no.”

                “Excuse me?”

                “It’s 10:30 at night Apollo, why the hell do you need a double-shot espresso? You should be getting some sleep. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of it, but it works wonders, I promise.” Grantaire knew in the back of his mind that he probably shouldn’t be arguing if he wanted to make Enjolras feel better, but he couldn’t help it. It was like a primal instinct to disagree with him.

                “I have to work to finish. I’ll sleep when I sleep.” Wow, there wasn’t even a little bit of annoyance in his voice, just exhaustion. Something wasn’t right.

                “Hey, Enjolras,” his eyes finally shifted to Grantaire’s when he used his real name, “Is something wrong? You seem… off. Did something go wrong with the rally?” They were planning for some rally in May that was going to be centered on unfair shifts in tuition fees, or something else cliché that college kids protest. Enjolras’ eyes shifted around the café, but everyone had cleared out except for Ep and ‘Ferre and they were clearly preoccupied with each other. Disgusting.  

                “No, its… it’s really nothing.” Enjolras said with a wave of his hand, “I don’t wanna burden you.” _HA._

                “Aw, come on Apollo. I’d love for you to burden me. What’s wrong, maybe I can help?” Grantaire offered with a small smile. When Enjolras still looked hesitant Grantaire leaned forward against the counter and said, “I don’t like seeing you like this, Enjolras. You haven’t lectured me even _once_ tonight and its freaking me out.” Enjolras laughed slightly and then moved over to sit at one of the barstools to the left of the counter. 

                “If you really wanna know… it’s my little sister’s birthday this weekend.” He said with a shrug. It took a minute for Grantaire to realize why that was a bad thing, but then he remembered Enjolras’ relationship with his parents. Or better yet, his lack thereof.

                “Oh,” Grantaire responded, waiting for him to continue. Enjolras just smiled and stared at his hands on the table for a few more seconds, “And they won’t let you see her?”  Enjolras shook his head and it looked like tears were welling in his eyes.

                “I just got off the phone with them… But it’s okay,” Enjolras said, “There’s really nothing anyone can do if they're going to be assholes. I just hope she doesn’t hate me.” That was all true. And there was no way she could hate Enjolras; no one could hate Enjolras, but still, Grantaire didn’t know what to do. All he knew was he really hated seeing Enjolras like this. So, he thought back and delved into his vast knowledge of all things he knew about Enjolras (which was a-fucking-lot; you learn a formidable amount about a person while being irrevocably in love with them) and set about to make him smile at least.

                “Well, um… hey, I was just wondering if you heard about that guy whose whole left side was cut off. He's all right now.” Enjolras head slowly came up, his eyes slightly squinted in confusion as he watched Grantaire, who went about making Enjolras’ drink.

                “Also,” Grantaire kept going, figuring he’d ride this train to hell and hope it turned out alright, “I don’t know if you really care, but I’m reading this book about anti-gravity. It’s been impossible to put down.” A small smile crept on Enjolras’ face even if he was biting his lip to try and stop it, so Grantaire pushed on.

                “The other day I heard the police were called to a daycare where a three-year-old was resisting a rest.” Enjolras barked out a laugh at that one and then immediately brought his hand to his mouth to try and cover the smile there that he couldn’t seem to get rid of. Grantaire was then struck with the dizzying realization of what a huge dork the man he chose to love was, but he didn’t let that stop him. He had a few more left to go.

                “This butcher I know, he backed up into the meat grinder and got a little behind in his work. A prisoner's favorite punctuation mark is the period. It marks the end of his sentence. Yesterday I accidentally swallowed some food coloring. The doctor says I'm OK, but I feel like I've dyed a little inside.” At this point Enjolras was actively laughing and Grantaire literally felt like he was going to burst because _he fucking did that._ HE made Enjolras turn red with laughter; it was like a drug and Grantaire could’ve kept going all night.

                “Okay, okay, okay, stop Grantaire, please. These are horrible.” Enjolras said, but he was still struggling to stop his laughter so victory still glowed inside of Grantaire’s stomach.

                “Yeah, maybe,” Grantaire conceded, “but you’re smiling now, aren’t you?” Enjolras laughed incredulously and looked down, shaking his head slowly.

                “Yeah, I guess I am.” He smiled again, this time right at Grantaire and oh no. Grantaire’s heart was literally about to burst. It was going to be really embarrassing when the coroner explains to Enjolras that he had died from an overload of Apollo-related happiness. “Thanks, R.”

                “No problem, Apollo.” He said as he handed him his to-go cup. Enjolras took a sip as he walked backward and then grimaced slightly.

                “This isn’t espresso…”

                “No. It’s sleepy-time tea. Go home and get some rest, Enjolras. You need it.”

                “Thanks again, Grantaire.” Enjolras said with a genuine smile and another sip of his tea as he walked out the door. Without a doubt, Grantaire wore a stupid grin for the rest of the night. But then again, so did Enjolras. 

                                                                                                                               ***

            “So are you guys going to come and help me set up Bahorel’s party thing tomorrow?” Courfeyrac asked from the couch, his head on Jehan’s lap. He and Enjolras were over at Jehan and Grantaire’s to watch the marathon of Say Yes to the Dress (Enjolras claimed Courfeyrac had forced him to come, but honestly he just loved this show. All TLC shows actually, but he would never admit that out loud. Not even to Combeferre).

                “Yeah, I heard about that. Why are you throwing him a party again?” Grantaire asked, still not looking up from his sketchpad. Enjolras wanted to ask him what he had been so adamantly drawing for the past half an hour, but he didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. Grantaire was always sort of private about his art, especially with Enjolras, although he didn’t understand why.

                “It’s his birthday next next weekend so we’re throwing him a surprise party. _This_ Saturday.” Courferyac said and Enjolras eagerly awaited Grantaire’s response. He’d been forced into hiking through the fucking mountains on a Saturday he could’ve spent planning or getting work done or doing anything that was NOT hiking. He was absolutely dreading it (physical activity that didn’t involve a gym was never Enjolras’ strong suit. Something about the fresh air really made him sick). Although, the idea of Grantaire coming along made is seem a little less awful. He didn’t let himself think too long about why that would be.

                “Next _next_ weekend?” Grantaire asked; his brow furrowed in confused amusement, but he still didn’t look up from his drawing, so Enjolras shifted his eyes back to Brandon ranting about this new bitchy bride. Or bride’s mom. He wasn’t really paying too close of attention.

                “Yeah!” Jehan answered enthusiastically as he ran his fingers through Courf’s hair, “He’ll never see it coming!” Grantaire laughed and shook his head but didn’t make any further comment.

                “Who else is coming to help?” he asked and Enjolras didn’t look over but he thought Grantaire finally raised his eyes towards him. But he wouldn’t look over. No, Enjolras was not going to look just because Grantaire did. He was stronger than that. He wouldn’t be _that_ obvious.  He settled for staring at Grantaire in his peripheral vision, where he settled himself more comfortably on the window seat with his sketchbook resting against his knees.

                “Um, I think it’s just us… Ferre has a meeting or something, Feuilly’s flight doesn’t get in until the afternoon, there’s no way Eponine or Bousset are going to engage in physical activity unless they absolutely have to, and Marius and Cosette are having lunch with her dad, so it’s just the four of us. If you're coming, R.”  

                “Wait, Apollo, you’re going?” Grantaire asked. Enjolras couldn’t read the tone of his voice; did he sound surprised? Or confused? Are those the same thing?

                “Yes? Why, is that surprising?” Enjolras asked, finally allowing himself to turn around and glare at Grantaire. Well he gave what he hoped was a glare. It was hard when the stupid sun was shining in Grantaire’s stupid black hair and his eyes looked ridiculously blue. God he was so stupid.     

                “I just figured you wouldn’t have time for that. Anyway, I’ll be there. Not like I have anything to do on a Saturday afternoon.” They kept looking at each other for a moment too long and Enjolras knew he was going to read too much into that later.

                “I always have time for my friends.” Enjolras said stupidly. God, what was he saying? Was he defending himself? That obviously wasn’t how Grantaire meant it. But still, it was like arguing with Grantaire was a primal instinct, something he just couldn’t repress.  

                “Oh, I know, that’s not how I meant it-” Grantaire started, and he actually looked really sorry, but he couldn’t continue because the phone started ringing.

                “Get that, R? I have a Courf in my lap.” Jehan said as Courfeyrac hummed contentedly. Grantaire scrambled up to find a phone and Enjolras could’ve sworn his cheeks were tinged red. That shouldn’t have been as cute as it was. Grantaire shouldn’t be allowed to be as cute as he was, dammit.  

                _So this is as good a time as ever to explain the moment Enjolras became certain that he was romantically inclined towards Grantaire. Okay, that’s a shit way to put it. This is as good a time as any to explain the exact moment that Enjolras realized he was in love with Grantaire. It would’ve made sense for it to have been at a rally. Enjolras could have looked down from the stage where he was using choice words to rile up a crowd, to see Grantaire down there amongst the others, passionately voicing his agreement. He would clearly see the vigor in his eyes, which he so often tried to hide in meetings. The hope and passion he veiled in cynicism and that he only let out when inspired by Enjolras. He could’ve looked down and seen all that he’s been missing in the artist and he could’ve been aware of the exact moment he had fallen head first in love instead of just diagnosing the symptoms later on. It would’ve also made sense for it to be during one of their thousand arguments at the Musain. It would’ve actually been convenient if he’d realized it then, because it would’ve been a helpful explanation for why his heart would beat faster and all he could focus on was the stupid, sexy smirk that was seemingly glued to Grantaire’s face whenever he proved Enjolras even slightly wrong.  It would’ve been a cute story; he would look at R, make these pivotal, life-changing realizations, and then instead of using pointed words to wipe that stupid grin of his face, he would use his lips. Perfect. But no, it was a much less dramatic realization than this. Enjolras’ realization that he was confusingly and permanently in love with Grantaire came with a flu, a stubborn will, a gallery opening, and a two-pack of Pepto Bismol._

_Enjolras never gets sick. And if he does, he doesn’t admit that it happened. In the sixth grade, he got chicken pox from the little kids he helped at the daycare down the street from his school, and he was so determined not to allow it to let him miss his spelling bee that he made Cosette use his mother’s make-up to cover up his spots. Yes, it was a bad idea in retrospect. Yes, Joly cried for two days when he found out later that week. Yes, let’s just say people were pretty mad at him when they found out (after he won, by the way. Yeah, he’s that good). Apparently chicken pox is contagious and he could’ve passed out and really hurt himself and blah blah blah. Enjolras blamed the patriarchy._

_Anyway, Enjolras never gets sick. He also never bails on his friends, so when he spent all of one Friday morning in November violently throwing up, he didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t tell anyone because the night before at the Musain, Grantaire had invited all of them to his art show downtown. This was a huge deal. Like a **huge. Deal**. Grantaire was really insecure about his art and only really showed people his random doodles that he’d scribble out during meetings or on napkins at lunch (which were amazing), never his actual paintings (which he assumed were amazing). According to Jehan and Eponine, who were the only ones who had actually seen his work, he tended towards watercolors, but his real talent was with oil paintings. Apparently he had a real grasp over color dynamics, whatever that meant. Art sort of went way over Enjolras’ head. But still, Grantaire had been Enjolras’ friend since high school, when they started the Les Amis, and it hadn’t escaped his notice that he’d still never seen his art. He was excited and Grantaire seemed excited that everyone was coming as well. He wasn’t going to let a goddamn weak immune system force Enjolras to let a friend down. So, he googled ‘how to help the stomach flu’ (1. Rest, which he didn’t have time for, 2. Food, which honestly seemed super counterproductive, and 3. Medicine, which yeah, obviously), downed half a bottle of Pepto Bismol, wrapped himself in about five layers, and left to go to Grantaire’s show. _

_It did occur to him to wonder why he was doing this. Grantaire would understand if he was sick and all the others would be there, Eponine was even bringing Gavroche. But Enjolras still really wanted to be there. At the time he chalked it up to friendship. Enjolras was just a really amazing friend. Yeah._

_“Hey- Jesus Christ, Enjolras you look like shit.” Courfeyrac said in greeting. He’d put his hand on Enjolras’ shoulder to pull him in for a hug, but now it was being used to keep him pushed back._

_“Thanks, Courf, always good to see you too.” All the greetings went like that from there on; apparently he looked worse than he thought he did, judging from the way Joly jumped back from him with a yelp and hid behind the considerably shorter Musichetta for the rest of the night. Grantaire’s reaction came later that night, because he was busy talking to teachers and other important art people all night, but by the time he came over to them he actually gaped at Enjolras._

_“Apollo… what the hell are you doing here? I didn’t even know the Spanish Flu was still in circulation. Are you okay?” Enjolras barked out a laugh and then felt like his head was shaken like a snow globe so he swayed forwards a little. Grantaire gripped his shoulders to steady him._

_“You know, if you were dying you didn’t have to come. I would’ve understood.” He said with a small smile and Enjolras shook his head as assuredly as he could without falling forwards, right into Grantaire’s chest which had started looking more and more comfortable by the second._

_“I wanted to see your art. It’s really good by the way; I like the red and gold one... with the… room…” Enjolras said, vaguely remembering seeing a red and gold one (he’d be told later that he was remembering the one he had stood in front of for about twenty minutes with no words before Combeferre gently steered him towards other paintings)._

_“My whole series was crafted around red and gold, Enjolras; you’ll have to be more specific,” Grantaire whispered and he sounded embarrassed and that really isn’t what Enjolras had wanted._

_“Oh … um…. Yeah, just gimme a minute…” Enjolras tried really hard to think back to which painting it was because Grantaire needed to know he really did like his art, but dammit his head was all fuzzy._

_And the next thing he remembered was waking up at home. He sat up slowly, blinking hard against the light of the sun. There was a trash can (clean, surprisingly) right next to him and a Gatorade on his night stand and he heard the TV on in the living room. He figured it was Courfeyrac getting ready for the day, but one look at his clock told him that wasn’t possible. It was a past noon and Courf’s classes started at 10:00. Enjolras forced himself to slowly swing his legs over the side of the bed and walk into the living room without letting his brain slide around in his skull too viciously. He was expecting to see Combeferre or probably Joly out there, but no. Cue the cheesy-romantic music because the second Enjolras saw Grantaire in his kitchen, chopping carrots and humming some song Enjolras had never heard, the very picture of domesticity, he thought_ well, fuck. I’m in love _._

_Grantaire, completely oblivious to Enjolras’ quite jarring and quite anti-climactic realization, just smiled. “Heyyy, look at you Endymion, all awake and what not. I thought we’d lost you for a second there.” He smiled and Enjolras felt his knees go a little weak. He tried not to be upset that he didn’t call him Apollo. He actually sort of loved it when Grantaire called him that. Again, he had yet to allow himself to think about why that was. This was pathetic. Was he blushing? Shit, it felt like he was blushing. It felt like all the blood in his body had rushed to his face. Had Grantaire always been this attractive? His eyes looked really blue this morning. And his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, so the tattoos that laced up his arms were visible. It was all monumentally distracting._

_“Or maybe you’re not awake… Are you sleepwalking again?” Grantaire asked, amusement and some worry staining his voice. Enjolras ran a hand over his face and through his curls to try and gain some composure. It was harder said than done but he managed. Well, he liked to think he managed._

_“What are doing here? What happened last night?” his voice was rough with sleep and probably from vomiting repeatedly, which is something he vaguely remembered doing all night. It was all very blurry._

_“Ah, you don’t remember?” Grantaire was obviously trying to hide his amusement as he turned his attention back to the carrots. Enjolras climbed onto one of the barstools and crossed his legs while shaking his head slowly. He was sort of afraid of hearing the story, its inevitable embarrassment already coloring his cheeks._

_“Well you pretty much passed out on me at the gallery, so I volunteered myself to help get you home. It was my fault you were out anyways, since I made a huge deal about the stupid show-”_

_“Hey, it wasn’t stupid,” Enjolras interjected, irritated at Aire’s self-deprecating tone, “I was really happy you invited me. We’re all really proud of you Grantaire.” He kept his head down to hide it, but Enjolras saw the genuine smile that spread across his face and it made his stomach flutter. In a good way. Not in the way it had ten hours ago when he was emptying his stomach of all its contents._

_“Yeah… um… well, yeah. Thanks, Enjolras, that’s uh… that means a lot, actually.” He smiled up at Enjolras and he was busy being struck by the fact that he had made Grantaire lose his words. This was a weird-ass morning. “Anyway, you passed out, I helped Courf get you home, Joly said you had the stomach flu and needed fluids, rest, and food, so I’m making you chicken soup! I also bought you another two-pack of Pepto Bismol, because that’s what helps me most. Courfeyrac had to get to class, so I stayed in case you woke up. Which you did, a few times, actually, but this one seems to have stuck, finally.” Enjolras groaned and put his head in his hands. It wasn’t the first time he’d been told he was a sleepwalker. Also,_ aw he brought me medicine _._

_“Oh God, I’m sorry about that. I’m told it’s really creepy.” Grantaire shook his head and smiled._

_“Nah, don’t worry about. After the second time it didn’t give me a heart attack anymore.” Enjolras laughed and groaned again. He brought his knees up and rested his chin on the tops of them, so he it would be easier to hide the blush on his cheeks._

_“Just tell me, what did I do? Oh God, I didn’t say anything did I?”_

_“No, no, no. You mostly just sat on the couch and watched me draw or watched TV with me. It wasn’t too weird actually. Just a little unnerving.” He smiled sweetly and Enjolras couldn’t help but smile back, he just hoped his infatuation wasn’t painted too clearly on his face. He felt like it was, though, throughout the entire conversation that went on much longer and was much more comfortable than usual._

                “Enjolras?” Grantaire asked, pulling him out of his flashback. He shook his head and raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

                “Sorry, I zoned out. What was it?” Enjolras forced himself not to blush, not to make it obvious what he was just remembering.

                “It’s Cosette. She was wondering if you could come in today to work on the … Mosley case? Something about needing a break and not trusting it to Theodule; what should I tell her?” Enjolras shook his head and held out his hand to take the phone from R. This case was a big one for his firm, and despite the fact he’d only been interning there a little under a year and wasn’t even graduated yet, they trusted his opinion explicitly. It was definitely a point of pride for Enjolras.

                “I’ll talk to her.” Grantaire nodded and said his goodbyes to Cosette before handing the phone to Enjolras. Their hands brushed briefly and Enjolras tried not to be a 14 year old girl about that fact, but he didn’t think he succeeded. He still didn’t let himself dwell on it though. Despite his realization a few months ago about his feelings for Grantaire, he didn’t let himself wallow in them for two reasons: 1. He was truly and horribly shit at relationships. He didn’t understand feelings in the slightest and the thought of having to maintain a _boyfriend_ made him extremely nervous and he wasn’t one hundred percent sure he could handle it (He also knew he could, though, if that boy was Grantaire). And 2. Well, Grantaire didn’t seem to reciprocate his feelings in the slightest. He didn’t think Grantaire _hated_ him, per se, but he definitely didn’t like him as much as he did the rest of the Les Amis. He wasn’t as tactile with him, didn’t draw silly pictures of him, didn’t text him constantly. They just weren’t as close and Enjolras never had a problem with that until he realized just how much he was missing out on with Grantaire. And now that he was in love with him, he had no idea how to ask him for friendship without seeming… well, in love with him. So, instead he smothered his feelings and forced himself with being content with the small interactions he gets with the artist now. The painfully perfect and painfully limited interactions.     

                                                                                                                        ***

             Why the fuck did he have such a knack for saying the wrong things? Grantaire _knew_ Enjolras loved his friends. He went out of his way constantly to make sure each one of the Les Amis knew exactly how much they meant to him. For God’s sake, junior year of high school he beat up three guys, _by himself,_ for calling Jehan some particularly not polite names. If Grantaire hadn’t been sure he loved Enjolras before that, he sure as hell knew it after. He was pretty sure Jehan was in love with him for a while as well, but that faded pretty quickly because Courfeyrac.

              So that was why Grantaire effectively felt like a piece of shit after he said that to Enjolras. _I just figured you wouldn’t have time for stuff like that_. God, he may have well told him he thought he was a pretentious bastard who thought he was too good for everyone else. And that was pretty much the exact opposite of what Enjolras wanted to be, Grantaire knew that so why did he always say the worst thing possible? He really needed to learn to check his words. But that had never been his strong suit, especially around Enjolras. It still came as the equivalent to a punch to the stomach when Enjolras didn’t show up to the set-up for Bahorel’s party.

              “Where’s Apollo?” Grantaire didn't even try to hide the disappointment from his voice as he jumped up from the bench he’d been sitting on when Courf and Jehan came clambering up, each holding two boxes of what looked to be filled with solely glitter and glitter covered products.

              “He’s stuck at work and sends his sincerest apologies,” Courfeyrac said exasperatedly, “Methinks he just really didn’t want to do any physical activity.” Jehan swatted his shoulder after he dropped the boxes on the bench.

              “Oh stop it, he would’ve been here if he could’ve. You’re just grumpy because you have to carry _one more box_.” Courf stuck his tongue out at Jehan and Jehan reciprocated and then Courf went in to tickle Jehan and long story short, it all developed into something really cute and hella gay and Grantaire just really wished Enjolras was there to make fun of them with him. It would be one more opportunity for Grantaire to make him laugh. Enjolras had a really great laugh. When Jehan and Courfeyrac finally cut out the cute, they grabbed the boxes and started hiking to Bahorel’s meadow.

               Well, it wasn’t _Bahorel’s_ meadow, exactly; it was more of a Les Amis place. They’d been going there to drink and just hang out since senior year of high school, so it was important to all of them but Bahorel favored it in a way no one else really understood. Grantaire was pretty sure it was where Feuilly first told him he loved him, or where they first lost their virginity ( _really, in a meadow?_   yeah I know right) or where Bahorel first realized he wasn’t alone in life, or something sappy like that. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure why, but whenever they went there as a group, Bahorel was really happy. That made the hike worth it for everyone, even Joly and Bossuet who both hated the wilderness with a passion (for different reasons though; Joly was afraid of bugs and dirt and germs and Bossuet was afraid of stepping in ANOTHER patch of poison ivy that he swore wasn’t even indigenous to this region).

               It didn’t take long to set up the party. They’d already had a bunch of tables set up there from the last picnic they had there, so it was just a matter of hanging streamers and laying out tablecloths and a dance floor and setting up the music and drinks. It only took about two hours until the three of them were able to collapse in the shade, passing a bottle of wine between them in celebration of finishing earlier than expected. It only took about two minutes for Grantaire to ask them.

               “It’s not… my fault Enjolras didn’t come, right? I mean, he wasn’t mad at me because of what I said, was he?” he hated seeming pathetic, but he had to ask. Jehan adamantly shook his head as he curled up to Grantaire’s side.

               “Aww, sweetie, no! Of course it wasn’t your fault! That’s just silly, that is.”

               “Yeah, you know, you guys are a lot more alike than you think you are.” Courf muttered, not opening his eyes or even tilting his head towards Grantaire. “He just couldn’t get out of this case thing. You know how he is at work, especially if Cosette needs him. I don’t even think he came home last night, now that I think about it.” Grantaire thought about that. And he thought about that. It wasn’t until Jehan started talking to him about the book of poetry Grantaire had bought him for his birthday that he allowed his thoughts to shift from Enjolras. Even then he found himself drifting in and out of the argument, silently longing for fiery blue eyes and brutally crafted words.

                By the time Grantaire saw Enjolras that night he had already lost count of the shots of tequila he’d knocked back. He was effectively drunk, even for Grantaire-standards. He was dancing in the middle of the giant mob of people with Bahorel, Marius, and Cosette when Feuilly and Enjolras pushed their way through the crowd next to them. Bahorel gave a loud cheer when he saw his boyfriend and pulled him into what looked like a bone-crushing hug, which Feuilly returned just as fervently.  Grantaire knew he was staring at Enjolras and he probably had a dumb grin on, but he couldn’t find it in him to care, because _ENJOLRAS! Yay!_

                “We’re gonna go get drinks! You guys want anything?” Feuilly shouted over the music and Bahorel shook his head, but Grantaire nodded.

                “You stay kiddo!” Grantaire had a habit of calling everyone ‘kiddo’ when he was somewhere between drunk and _really_ drunk’, “You just got here, so stay with Bahorel. I’ll get you a drink!” Feuilly smiled and thanked him as he immediately began dancing in a way that was not at all kid-friendly. By the time they got to the make-shift bar, Grantaire was still smiling at Enjolras and he looked a little confused by it.

                “Is something wrong, R?” he asked, laughing slightly.

                “No! Of course not, I mean, you’re here!” Enjolras grimaced at this and nodded.

                “Yeah, I’m really sorry about this afternoon. I wanted to be there! I did,” Grantaire really wanted to believe him, he almost let himself, “I just got caught up in the case and lost track of time and … I’m really sorry I bailed. It wasn’t too bad, was it?”

                “Nah, it wasn’t too bad. I definitely missed you though.” Grantaire said a little too loudly, because the song had just changed to one without quite as blaringly loud of a bass. _Shit,_ Grantaire thought, wincing despite himself, _did I just say what I think I said?_ Enjolras looked as shocked as Grantaire felt.

                “Really?” all shock was gone now and Enjolras just seemed… happy? Grantaire’s drunk and fuzzy mind couldn’t quite distinguish what that was, “You missed me?” He felt his face get hot from more than just the alcohol and he grasped for something to say.

                “Well, um, yeah, um, of course- Combeferre!” Grantaire exclaimed, thanking the gods above that he didn’t have to partake in this conversation anymore.

               “Grantaire!” Combeferre responded, obviously a little confused, but also more than amused.

               “It’s good to see you, kiddo! Here,” he said to Enjolras this time, “Talk to ’Ferre. I’m gonna go get this to Feuilly.” He held up the beer he’d grabbed for him and before he could say anything more stupid he turned around and slipped into the crowds of writhing bodies to find Bahorel and Feuilly and get away from the one guy he’d ever met who managed to get him flustered in every conversation _without fail_ … Enjolras. Not Combeferre, although he was pretty intimidating as well. He breathed a sigh of relief when they were out of sight.

               “Coward!” Eponine said, scaring the shit out of him as she snuck up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She was terrifying too. A lot of his friends were really terrifying; why did he do this to himself?

               “I have no idea what you’re referring to!” his words were a little more slurred than he was proud of, but Eponine luckily didn’t make any comment. She just gave him that look he was pretty sure could match even Combeferre’s knowing glare until he threw his head back with a sigh.

              “Can’t I just go ONE night without thinking about how hopelessly in love with him I am? Can’t I just have ONE night where his stupid face isn’t at the forefront of my brain?” ‘Ponine just smiled at him, surprisingly soft for her. Their penchant for unrequited love was how they become friends sophomore year, when she transferred to their high school and promptly fell in love with Pontmercy. Instead of lecturing this time, she just took his hand and led him deeper into the crowds of people and danced with him until both of their legs felt like jelly and their hearts were beating out of their chests.

                                                                                                         ***

               He’d missed him. Did you hear that? He said he’d _missed_ him. Enjolras knew it was stupid that the five words a drunken Grantaire had said to him shouldn’t mean that much to him, but they so did. They really did, even if he punctuated the sentence by promptly running away into a crowd and spending the rest of the night there. And that was cruel because Enjolras hated dancing. He pretty much went the one place where Enjolras would never _ever_ follow, at least not without being pathetically drunk. The party had gone on pretty late and people were finally starting to clear out when Enjolras finally saw Grantaire again. He looked a little less drunk and his arm was slung around Eponine’s shoulders. She quickly peeled herself off of him, though, and ran to hug Combeferre who was gathering his stuff with Musichetta to leave. She was definitely a little more drunk than Grantaire was.

               “Hey there fearless leader!” Grantaire said, sweeping his arm out in what resembled a bow, “How’s your night been?”

               “Fine, thank you. And you?” Enjolras asked as he ran his hands over his arms a couple times, kicking himself mentally for leaving his jacket in the seat of his car.

               “Marvelous, thanks for asking!” They both just stood there for a couple seconds, smiling at each other and waiting for the other to say something. Enjolras would have attempted conversation that probably would’ve resulted in an argument, but Grantaire was just staring, the wind gently tousling his curls and it was disarming. Luckily, he was saved by Eponine and Combeferre who walked over to say goodbye.

              “Enjolras, R, hey, we were just about to brave the hike to our car. You guys coming?” Grantaire shook his head, the smile on his face still firmly in place and still very distracting.

              “Nah, I’m gonna help Courf and Jehan clean up, but you go on. Eponine looks a little out of it.” He said with a laugh as Eponine’s head lolled onto ‘Ferre’s shoulder. 

              “Oh, yeah, I should probably stay, too,” Enjolras volunteered, “Since, I bailed this afternoon, it’s the least I can do. You guys go on. I’ll call you tomorrow, Combeferre.” They waved one last time and went on their way, Combeferre practically carrying the half-asleep Eponine. It made Enjolras happy to see his two friends together. He knew Ep was pretty broken up when Marius proposed to Cosette (even thought they’d all known it was inevitable since freshmen year), and while his best friend wasn’t nearly as open with his heartbreak, Enjolras knew he took it pretty hard when Courfeyrac started dating Jehan. It was good to see both of them happy; Enjolras really did hate seeing his friends unhappy, especially when there was nothing he could do to stop it.

              “You don’t have to help, you know. It’s no big deal.” Grantaire said, running his fingers through his messy curls. Enjolras frowned, not knowing what that meant. Did he not want him here?

               “I really don’t mind… unless you don’t want me here?” he felt dumb asking, but he always felt unsure of himself around Grantaire, in a way he’d never really known before. He felt even dumber for asking when Grantaire’s his eyes widened and he adamantly shook his head.

               “Oh no, I’d- we’d love to have you. I just… don’t want you to feel obligated to do something you don’t want to… this is stupid. Just pick up the trash.” Grantaire said with a smile which Enjolras whole heartedly returned before turning around to start on one corner of the meadow.

               “People really don’t give a shit about littering when they’re drunk, do they?” Enjolras asked out loud as he grabbed one of the trash bags Jehan offered to pick up the numerous cans and bottles littered about.

                “No, I’m pretty sure that’s the first federal offense that the brain disregards when intoxicated.” Grantaire replied seriously.

                “Littering isn’t a federal offense.” Enjolras corrected, grunting each word as he jumped to try and reach a streamer that was tangled in the tree above him.

                “Well _okay_ , Mr. Know-it-all.” Grantaire walked over and stood on his tip-toes to grab the streamer out of the tree effortlessly. Enjolras huffed and pushed a stray curl out of his face as he mumbled a thank you. Grantaire couldn’t have been more than two inches taller than him, but he had freakishly long arms, the freak. Enjolras went to pull down some streamers that were easier to reach when the wind blew again and he couldn’t stop a shiver. He ran his hands up and down his arms again, mentally cursing Bahorel for having a birthday in February.

                 “Oh, are you cold?” Grantaire asked as he shrugged off his dark green hoodie, the one he wore practically all the time, “Here. It may be a little big, but it’s warm. I promise.” Enjolras knew the polite thing to do would be to say _no please that’s too kind_ before actually accepting it, but he was freezing. He’d never been good in the cold. Also, it would be practically impossible for him to say no to wearing _Grantaire’s hoodie_ the whole night. Maybe he could even get away with stealing it. Would that be too obvious? He’d find a way.

                “Oh, wow, um thanks, R.” It was a little too big on him, but that didn’t matter. It was warm and smelled like Grantaire and he could still manage to move around without it getting in the way. He was definitely going to steal it. The rest of the clean-up went by in a blur, with Enjolras trying to discreetly bury his face in Grantaire’s hoodie every… oh, two minutes.

                “Stop being so _obvious_.” Courfeyrac mock whispered to Enjolras as he passed by him. He wasn’t even pretending to help now, just spinning Jehan around in circles in a surprisingly impressive waltz while Enjolras and Grantaire did all the work. Enjolras just grumbled and pulled at his sleeves before getting back to work. He didn’t want to glare at the two of them, but it was impossible not to when they were being so _cute_.   

                “Kind of makes you wanna brush your teeth, doesn’t it?” Grantaire walked over once his side of the meadow was clean. He dropped down next to Enjolras and gestured for him to sit down with him.

                “Yeah, it would make me angry. But it’s like getting angry at a puppy. A basset hound puppy. A basset hound puppy whose friends with one of those tea cup pigs. It’s just impossible.” Grantaire laughed and leaned back on his forearms. Enjolras wrapped his hoodie tighter around his shoulders so he would have something to do.

                “So what are you doing tonight? Any big plans, it _is_ only… 2:30.” Grantaire laughed and shook his head (and that makes two for Enjolras tonight on making Grantaire laugh. Big night). 

                “Nah, I’m all partied out for once. What about you?”

                “I’ve got a paper to finish.” Grantaire made an exasperated noise.

                “ _Wow_ , Apollo, don’t go _too_ crazy,” Enjolras just rolled his eyes; he was used to it, “Are you serious? You just went to a party with alcohol and possible hook-ups and instead of continuing the good night, you want to go home and work on a _paper_?”

                “Yeah, you wanna come help? It’s on-” Enjolras didn’t know what he was doing. Grantaire wouldn’t want to come, he just said it was stupid.

                “Hell yeah, I do.”  Grantaire cut him off before he could finish his sentence. He downed the rest of his beer and then stood up, holding out his hand to pull Enjolras up too. Well this would be interesting.

                                                                                                     ***

                “APOLLO NO! That is so wrong! He never takes any action! And even when he does, you can’t take his commitment seriously because everyone’s just waiting for him to change his mind like he always does because he’s a fickle mother fucker!”

                “He does commit, though, he does! He commits to avenging his father, he just doesn’t know how best to do it!”

               “But he does, doesn’t he? I mean, look at how he treats Ophelia and his mother and everyone in that fucking court, he’s a manipulative asshole! He knows _exactly_ what he’s doing; he knows exactly how to play the court to get them to believe exactly what he wants them to believe. He _knows_ he needs to keep them completely unaware so that he can do, or not do, what he thinks needs to be done!”

                “Yes! Exactly! He sets up the game board to be played, he put everyone in position but he doesn’t know how to execute it! He was raised a prince, surrounded by people forcing him to suppress his emotions for the better of the Denmark. Even if he hates that fact, it isn’t going to be easy for him to just throw that mindset aside. He knows how to manipulate people but in the end he just doesn’t know WHAT is best to do! That’s not the mental working of a villain, Grantaire! Claudius is the villain here! He’s the one who had the evil plan and went through with it, regrets or not. He acted upon his villainous attempts and thus he is more the villain.”

                “I disagree-”

                “Of course you do.” Enjolras muttered, turning back to the computer with a huff.

                “Don’t interrupt me! That’s against the rules. Anyway, I think it all goes back to- why do you have ten thousand dirty dishes in your kitchen?” Enjolras looked up, startled at Grantaire’s sudden shift in conversation. It took him a moment to realize it wasn’t about Hamlet and Enjolras didn’t need to formulate an argument.

                “Oh, that. Courfeyrac broke the dishwasher a couple days ago. Well, a week ago, to be exact, and I just haven’t gotten around to doing them yet.” He shrugged it off as if it wasn’t a big deal, because it really wasn’t… was it? Grantaire looked at the kitchen with distaste before jumping off the edge of the dining table.

                “Come on. You need a break, anyway. I’ll wash, you dry.” Enjolras didn’t move, just stared and so Grantaire waved him over more emphatically, “This is disgusting. We need to fix this, come on.”

                “Fine, but we have to work quickly. I only have one more paragraph but I still need to proofread and-”

                “We’ll get it done, Apollo, its only 5:30. Now come on, grab a towel.” They worked in silence for the first few minutes. Enjolras eventually jumped up on the counter as a dried, actually enjoying the break from his writing. He was one of those weird people who actually enjoyed doing household chores. The gentle monotony of the task was soothing. In small doses, obviously, he wasn’t crazy.

                “Thanks for helping,” Enjolras said as he watched Grantaire wash one of the bigger pots, waiting to dry it, “Not just with the dishes, but with the paper too. It’s helpful to hear my ideas out loud.”

                “Really?  I can’t imagine I was too much help. I always thought my arguments were a hindrance.” He said it with equal amounts humor and self-deprecation and it gave Enjolras a sinking feeling in his stomach. Maybe he wasn’t quite as good to Grantaire as he should be.

                “Don’t say that, R. I really appreciate it. I mean, you drive me crazy at meetings, that I’ll admit,” he jumped off the counter and grabbed the now clean pot when it was handed to him, “But like Combeferre tells me a _ll the time,_ it’s good to have someone who challenges me. It makes me better. So thank you, I’m very grateful.” An unreadable expression passed over Grantaire’s face before he smiled, a real blindingly genuine smile too. It was one Enjolras would never forget.

                                                                                    ***

                “It could be arthritis.” Joly offered as he gently poked and prodded and Enjolras’ ankle before gently setting it back down on the coffee table. Grantaire and Bossuet both rolled their eyes.

                “He’s a little young to have _arthritis_ , Joly. Maybe try again?” Bossuet offered. They were all over at Grantaire and Jehan’s for a movie night and Combeferre had yet to arrive, so when Enjolras started complaining about the pain in his ankle, Joly swooped in to offer a diagnosis. He reached over and pushed the foot forward a little, stretching it and Enjolras made a noise of protest. It was stupid but it pushed Grantaire up off the couch and into the kitchen. He felt restless, Enjolras being in pain and him having no way to stop it. He went to the freezer and grabbed a few pieces of ice, dropping them in a sandwich bag, wrapping it in paper towels and then walking out to toss it to Enjolras.

                “This should help with the pain. You want some aspirin?” Enjolras flushed and shook his head.

                “It’s really not a big deal,” he murmured as Joly placed the ice pack gently in his ankle, “I don’t need any special attention for it. It’s just a little ache is all.” They all looked skeptical.

                “Yeah, sure.” Bossuet said, pushing Enjolras foot forward again and drawing another protestation as Enjolras pulled his foot away.

                “Hey!” Grantaire swatted his hand against the back of Bossuet’s bald head and Joly pointed a finger at him, “Apologize Bossuet! Don’t bully the patient!”

                “Sorry Enjolras.” He rubbed his hand dejectedly against the red mark Grantaire had left. Grantaire felt a little bad, but he hurt Enjolras so, you know, he’d reacted as someone would expect, he supposed.

                “He had a point though, Enj,” Courf said from the dining table where he was eating pizza with Bahorel and Eponine, “You’re hurt. You’ve been limping around the apartment and moaning all morning. Don’t lie.” Enjolras turned to glare at Courfeyrac but he just rolled his eyes. He and ‘Ferre were one of the few people who were conditioned to be unaffected by Enjolras’ wrath. Speaking of Combeferre…

                “Hey guys!” Combeferre said as he ducked into the apartment, closing his umbrella and shaking rain from his hair. He had two bottles of red wine and Grantaire jumped up to give him a big greeting.

                “‘Ferre! My favorite person!” Combeferre just rolled his eyes and pushed the drinks into Grantaire’s  hands before moving to sit next to Eponine. Grantaire smiled and set them down in the kitchen, grabbing a bottle opener and quickly pouring himself a glass. It was only seconds later that Feuilly and Jehan came in too, making grabby hands for a glass for themselves. Once everyone had their sustenance, they all moved to find their place in front of the TV. Grantaire grabbed a piece of pizza and sat directly to the right of Enjolras, putting his feet up right next to his on the coffee table.

                “‘Ferre said it’s probably just tendinitis. He’s gonna snag me a brace from his office tomorrow.” Enjolras said conversationally as he slowly moved his ankle side to side.

                “That’s good right?”

                “Better than arthritis.” Enjolras said with a grin and Grantaire laughed before Jehan tossed him the remote.

                “What are we watching tonight, R?” Jehan asked. He was settled in Courfeyrac’s lap at the foot of the ottoman where ‘Ferre and Eponine were cuddled up. Grantaire looked around and realized with a weird feeling that everyone in their group was paired up. They were like some incestuous group of bunnies, weren’t they? The idea had him a little flustered so mumbled an ‘I don’t care’ and handed the remote to Enjolras.

                “Here, Apollo, you choose.” He said as he sank himself deeper into the cushions, getting comfortable. Everyone in the room gave a collective gasp as the remote fell into Enjolras’ hands, Apollo included.

                 “What?” Grantaire looked around at the faces of his friends, some smiling, some aghast. “What did I do?”

                “You’re letting _Enjolras_ choose?” Eponine said it slowly, like she was talking to a child. Realization started to settle as a grin grew on Enjolras’ face.

                “Nobody ever lets me choose.” Enjolras whispered, flattered, as he turned to the TV and started messing with the buttons to pick a movie. Grantaire felt his face flush red as he internally scolded himself.

                “Let alone you, R!” Courf said from the floor, “You don’t let _anyone_ else pick movies! This is really unfair!” he complained and Jehan just laughed, running his fingers through his hair to soothe his whines.

                “Nothing historic!” Eponine scolded with everyone else’s muttered agreements.

                “And nothing French!” Added Bahorel. Enjolras rolled his eyes but he was still smiling as he flipped through Netflix. Grantaire wanted more than anything to be able to read his mind in that moment, praying to God he wasn’t creeped out by Grantaire’s  obvious  adoration of him. He didn’t seem to be anything but smug though, which was good.

                “Okay. Nothing here is good.” Enjolras declared as he got up and hobbled over to the DVD case by the window. He slipped the remote into his back pocket though, so no one could steal it from him, and Grantaire thought that was just the cutest dumbest thing he’d ever seen. The room gave a collective groan.

                “Hey, hush!” Enjolras used his rally voice, so no one could really argue with him, “The rights to pick the movie were handed over to me and I expect everyone here to respect that.”

                “ _I didn’t vote for you_.”  Cosette murmured as she burrowed deeper into Marius’ arms at Grantaire’s feet and everyone in earshot stifled a laugh. No one actually wanted to take Enjolras’ movie-choosing rights away, but if he heard that they wanted to put it to a vote, make it the _people’s choice_ , he probably would cave. Even if it was a Monty Python quote.

                “Any second now, Enjolras.” Combeferre teased. Enjolras plucked a movie out with confidence and then contradicted the appearance of said confidence by hopping on one foot over to the DVD player before sliding it in, hiding the movie box behind the TV, and then hopping back to sit next to Grantaire. He fought the urge to put his arm around him and pull him close but it was damn hard, what with him being so fucking cute. Grantaire could handle him being passionate and beautiful and inspiring, but cute. No, he wasn’t at all prepared for that shit.

                Everyone sat back with anticipation as the machine started to load the disc. Enjolras was notoriously known for having shit taste in movies. He once spent _actual_ _money_ on a ticket to an IMAX theater to see a _documentary_ _on the Civil War_. If he wasn’t watching shit like that, once when he was really drunk (of the two times Grantaire had ever seen him really drunk) he’d told him that he once stayed up for forty-eight hours straight to watch all of _El Cuerpo del Deseo_ , a Spanish Telenovela. He didn’t even speak Spanish before he watched it, although he knew how to now. So, easy to say, Grantaire was very much hoping his obsession with Enjolras would not result in a horrible movie night. It wouldn’t. When the main screen for _Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_ (the one with Martin Freeman and Zooey Deschanel) popped up the room gave a collective cheer and Enjolras face went red.

                “You guys didn’t think I was actually going to choose a documentary, did you?” he murmured and Grantaire laughed and playfully pushed him on the shoulder.

                “Nice choice, Apollo.” Enjolras just rolled his eyes and pressed play. They all settled back to watch the movie and Grantaire may have been hallucinating or drunker than he thought, but he could’ve sworn Enjolras leaned in to press himself a little bit closer. So altogether, it was shaping up to be a good movie night.

                Once the movie was over, a couple of them decided it was time to call it a night. Marius had a meeting with his grandfather in the morning and Musichetta had to go check on something at the Musain, so them and their significant others said their reluctant goodbyes and left the rest of them to decided what to do next.

                “Well, we could watch another movie?” Combeferre offered and Eponine groaned.

                “We always do that… let’s play a game!” she offered, eyeing Grantaire in a way that made him a little more than nervous. Eponine had been terribly good at schemes since the ninth grade and Grantaire knew from experience it was never good to have that face directed at him.

                “We’re not twelve years old, Ep.” Enjolras said with a scowl. Grantaire was going to agree but Bahorel spoke first.

                “No, let’s play a game! We’ll make it a drinking game! I love seeing fox face drunk.” Feuilly punched him in the arm, not lightly at all, but he looked amused so Bahorel just laughed leaned more of his body weight on him (Grantaire momentarily shuttered to think how brutal their sex must be; _man_ , he was having weird thoughts tonight).

                “Oooh! Yeah, alcohol! Let’s do it!” Courfeyrac said. He hopped up and ran to the kitchen, going to straight to Grantaire and Jehan’s alcohol cabinet and grabbing their two bottles of tequila. He left the wine and he absinthe which Grantaire was thankful for, because as much as he loved his friends, he didn’t want to waste good alcohol. What was he, _made_ of money? “Let’s play that one they played on _Game of Thrones_. Where someone says something they think is true about the other person and if it’s true they drink and if it’s wrong, the person asking has to drink.”

                “This sounds like something I’m going to be bad at.” Enjolras said with a frown as Courf passed out the shot glasses.

                “Yeah, kiddo, you probably will be.”

                “Aw shit, Grantaire, you’re already in the kiddo phase? How much have you drank? Did I miss the parkour phase?” Bahorel sounded genuinely bummed and Grantaire snickered. Everyone scooted closer to the table in the center of the room so Grantaire and Enjolras took their feet off of it reluctantly.

                “Not too much. I think I’ve evolved and the kiddo phase has started coming sooner now. It’s coming before the lowering of inhibitions and disregard for bodily safety.”

                “Yeah, I’ve noticed that.” Eponine said with a nod of agreement.

                “Okay, who’s going first? No volunteers? Okay, I guess I’ll go first!” Courf said, ignoring the various volunteers to go first, “Nothing obvious just to get people to drink! That’s cheating and if the people rule that you obviously knew the answer than you have to take two shots and Eponine will hit you in the head. Got it?” Everyone murmured their agreement and Eponine smiled wickedly, “Okay! Me first! Grantaire! _You_ had sex with an actor from Gossip Girl.”

                “How the _hell_ do you know that?!” Grantaire asked, his eyes opening wide. He hadn’t even told Eponine that. Who _did_ he tell? He thought about it for a moment before looking over at Jehan  who was trying very obviously not to meet his eyes. “Damn it Jehan! I told you that in privacy in a moment of intense inebriation!”

                “Whoa, which actor?” Bahorel asked, but was silenced by Grantaire’s glare.

                “I’m sorry, R! He’s my significant other! No secrets in love, remember?” he looked repentant and bashful and all things very sneakily Jehan, so Grantaire didn’t buy it for a second. He just downed a shot of tequila, keeping his eyes on Jehan the whole time as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and thought hard on their history.

                “No secrets, huh?” he asked, and Jehan’s eyes opened wide.

                “Ohhh this is getting good.” Eponine leaned her forearms on the table and Combeferre passed her the popcorn with a grin.                                                                            

                “Jehan, you haven’t told Courfeyrac about-”

                “Wait, I’m sorry, this cannot continue until you tell us which member of the Gossip Girl cast you banged!” Bahorel said indignantly, “There has to be a rule against this!” Grantaire glared at him again but he still wouldn’t back off.

                “Is there, Ep? Because hell, I want know too.” Feuilly said as he took a sip from his beer.

                “Wait, why is Eponine the rule-maker?” Courfeyrac asked, “I’m the one who chose this game!”

                “Obviously because you’re biased. Because of Jehan. Eponine doesn’t care about either side, so she’s an impartial party and is thus better equipped to make the rules.” Enjolras said with a shrug and a small sip of his beer and Grantaire groaned.

                “Fine. Fine, because I know Eponine is going to make me say it-”

                “I was, he isn’t wrong.”

                “I may or may not have had sex with… Jessica Szohr.” A collective cheer went up, mostly from Courf, Bahorel, and Feuilly.

                “Shit, my friend! I am impressed. She’s hot.” Bahorel declared as a ripple of agreement extended throughout the room. Grantaire resisted the urge to walk over there and punch him (because honestly, he’d be the one who would get his ass kicked in that situation. He may have been boxing for years, but Bahorel was a fucking semi-truck. There was no way he would win that).

                “Yes, I’m very impressive. My sexual escapades are fascinating and extraordinary and also none of your fucking business. So, back to Jehan’s betrayal, and by the way I hope everyone knows that because I had to divulge my secret, everyone has to give the information the group deems necessary on each and every turn. Because fuck all of you.  _Jehan,_ my dear, you have never told Courfeyrac about New Year’s Eve, 2011.” Jehan gasped.

                “You son. Of. A _bitch.”_ He glared at Grantaire but tossed back a shot with a grace he envied. Courf looked back and forth between them, sitting up higher in his seat.

                “What? What happened New Year’s Eve 2011? That was a way before we went out… what happened?! Tell me now!” Courf was practically jumping up and down and the only thing that could ever possibly snap Grantaire out of his staring match with Jehan happened; Enjolras laughed. Grantaire looked over at him, surprised that he’d almost forgotten he was sitting right next to him. Enjolras looked up at him and smiled before mouthing: _maybe you shouldn’t_. He shrugged and gave another half-smile before taking another big chug of his beer.

                “Oh, yeah. I forgot you were there for that, Apollo.” Grantaire watched as Enjolras sat up a little straighter, making it more obvious he was a part of the game now.

                “Yeah, and I vote, as an equal part of this game, that Jehan does _not_ have to divulge the story because Grantaire is drunk and an _asshole_ and the fifth amendment and whatnot. So, all in favor?” Jehan said ‘I’ quite loudly and was echoed by Combeferre, Bahorel, and Feuilly (who was also there that New Year’s Eve, but Grantaire was 900% sure he had little to no recollection of the night). Courf and Eponine looked skeptical, always ones for a good story, but either way, majority ruled.

                “Good, glad that’s settled. Now, Jehan? It’s your turn. Let’s try to keep it civil, though, shall we?” Enjolras said with one raised eyebrow and a glance between him and Jehan. Grantaire tried to seem upset but he was mostly just embarrassed. He was also really glad Enjolras was there. He hated fighting with Jehan.

                “Alright,” Jehan said, turning to Eponine and continuing the game, but Grantaire wasn’t paying attention anymore. He turned towards Enjolras, bumping him softly with his elbow.

                “Thanks for that, Apollo.” Grantaire whispered. Enjolras looked up at him surprised but pleased. He tipped the edge of his beer at him and smiled in acknowledgement before taking another long sip. It was probably the most Grantaire had seen him drink in a long time, but he barely had time to think about that because when he pulled the bottle away from his lips with a soft _pop_ , Grantaire’s attention was pulled lower. Enjolras ran his tongue over his bottom lip and Grantaire was captivated. They were slightly slick with spit and a bright red from Enjolras’ constant biting and Grantaire wanted nothing more than to lean in and suck-

                “Enjolras!” Both of their attentions were pulled away from each other when a slightly intoxicated Courfeyrac called out, “You haven’t gone yet, have you?” Enjolras looked annoyed. Grantaire hoped it was at Courfeyrac and not at him for just obviously being about to kiss him.

                “No, Courf, I have not. So shoot.”

                “You own sex toys.” Courf said after a moment of consideration and everyone turned to stare. Grantaire felt his jaw open a little bit as everyone waited to see what Enjolras would do. The corner of Enjolras’ mouth curled up a little bit as he stared Courf down. Apollo didn’t lie; everyone knew that. Even if the game didn’t explicitly state you weren’t allowed to lie, he still wouldn’t. That’s why he was so shit at poker. It was just a generally acknowledged fact. The sky is blue, Bert and Ernie are gay, and Enjolras doesn’t lie. His sex drive, however, was not as well known of a thing. Some people had wondered if it even existed. If it did, they would find out now (also, if it did, then Enjolras had a killer control over it. Grantaire had endured a multitude of ridiculously hot human beings making passes at Enjolras and he had never once gone home with any of them). Enjolras leaned forwards, rested his forearms on his knees, stared at Courf for another good minute while everyone waited with baited breath, before he leaned forward all the way to grab a shot glass and down the liquid with barely even a wince.

                _Shit._

                Everyone again erupted unison in a cheer (except for Grantaire and Enjolras of course; the former running a hand over his face and hair and taking a huge gulp of wine to try and ground himself and the latter flushing scarlet and trying not to sneak a look at Grantaire). Grantaire was trying and epically failing not to picture… things. _Enjolras. Sex toys. Shiiit._ He might have been broken _._ He also was yet to decide if he hated or loved Courfeyrac.

“Shut up, you complete assholes,” Enjolras said with a fond shake of his head, “It’s my turn now, right?” The game continued on until late in the night and yeah, Enjolras was right when he said he would suck at this game. The only times he ever didn’t have to drink was when he called Combeferre out on going to yoga (they all would’ve said he too obviously knew that, but he’d lost so many times that everyone felt two shots would just be overkill, so they let it slide) and when he surprisingly knew that Grantaire had committed Catullus 16 to memory. Which is something that Grantaire did not remember ever telling him. Suffice to say, by the end of the game, everyone was very drunk, but Feuilly (who, despite his average frame and regular exercising, couldn’t hold his liquor _at all_. He probably had the tolerance of a sixteen year old girl) and Enjolras (who again, took _a lot_ of shots in that game, more than anyone else) were both particularly hammered. And everyone loved it.

                “Aww, I love drunk Enjolras!” Jehan whispered to Grantaire as Enjolras laid his head on his lap and began attempting to recite snippets of Pablo Neruda. Grantaire wasn’t an expert but he was pretty sure none of it was accurate.

                “Is any of this right?” he whispered back as Enjolras continued to ramble. He was waving his arms around above, laughing as he repeatedly almost hit Grantaire in the face. It was painfully adorable and Grantaire’s drunk mind could hardly stand it.

                “Well, no,” Jehan admitted, staring at Enjolras fondly and stroking his fingers through the blonde’s hair, “But he’s getting the gist of it at least.” Enjolras finally finished the poem he was attempting to recite and he did a mini-bow in his reclined position as he took Grantaire and Jehan’s applause.

                “Thank you, thank you! Merci, merci!” Enjolras giggled (honest-to-God, there is no other word for it but a giggle) and he sat up abruptly, placing himself in a sitting position right in between Grantaire and Jehan. He lolled his head backwards onto the couch and turned his whole body to face Grantaire, cuddling up to his side. Drunk Enjolras was a notably tactile person, not that Grantaire was even a little bit complaining. Jehan just laughed and jumped off the couch to find Courfeyrac, seeing he was no longer a part of this particular conversation. Enjolras smiled at Grantaire and he felt his heart jump a little.

                “I really like your hair.” He murmured, running one hand through his black curls.

                “My hair?” Grantaire’s drunk mind was slow to catch up and honestly, this all felt too surreal.

                “Yeah,” Enjolras replied _dreamily_ , “Is it naturally this curly?” he seemed genuinely curious which was weird, because Grantaire had gone to the beach with Enjolras. They swam at Courfeyrac’s pool every summer throughout high school. Enjolras knew this was his natural hair. Man, he must’ve been really drunk.

                “Hey!” Enjolras said, excitement lighting up his face, “We BOTH have curly hair! I know yours is black and mine is blonde, but s _till_! CURLS! We have something in common, Grantaire.” His voice got really soft at the end and he laid his head back on the couch to stare at Grantaire again.

                “Yeah, you, me, and another 60% of the world.” Enjolras looked at Grantaire when he said this and actually _pouted_.

                “Don’t take this away from us, R. Don’t do that to us.” Grantaire laughed at Enjolras’ sincerity, completely endeared.

                “I’m sorry, Apollo. You’re right and this really means something to me. It’ll take our friendship to a whole new level, probably.” Enjolras nodded his head once in affirmative and then laid his head on Grantaire’s shoulder.

                “Probably? Pssshh, this practically means we’re soul mates, Grantaire. You’ll see.” Grantaire’s heart skipped a beat, but he assured himself this was just the alcohol talking. It was all nonsense, just like the poetry attempt.

                “Whatever you say, Enjolras.” His chest felt tight as he picked Enjolras up, sliding an arm under his legs to carry him to bed before he could fall asleep on Grantaire’s shoulder and since Courf was asleep on the ottoman and ‘Ferre had already left, he figured no one would be driving him home tonight.

                “I _can_ walk you know. My foot doesn’t hurt _that_ bad.” Enjolras complained, but he buried his face in Grantaire’s neck, so he didn’t think he was too upset about being carried.

                “Yeah, but I don’t want anything hurting you, Apollo, not even a bum ankle.”

                “ _Apollo_.” Enjolras repeated with a wide smile and Grantaire thought he must have misheard him.

                “Huh?”

                “I like it when you call me Apollo.” He said as he snuggled tight under the covers. Grantaire smiled fondly at him and rolled his eyes.

                “You really are out of it, aren’t you? Well, if you insist, goodnight Apollo. Sleep tight.”

                “Thanks, R. I owe you one.” Enjolras’ words were so slurred Grantaire doubted he would even remember saying that, but he completely expected to cash in on that favor. Grantaire flipped the light off and gently shut his door behind him, suddenly feeling a lot more sober than he wanted to be. He walked into the kitchen, grabbed the half-full bottle of wine of the counter and, not bothering with a glass, took a gulp and went to sit next to Jehan on the couch. He had a book in front of him, but he was mostly just watching Courf, sneaking glances at his snoring form every once in a while.

                “That’s a little creepy, you know.” Grantaire said as he laid down next to his best friend, curling into his side and resting his head on his chest. He’d never been much of a cuddler until he met Jehan. No he couldn’t go a day without it.

                “Yeah, probably,” he said quietly but he didn’t look away. Grantaire looked up at him and smiled before getting up and shifting Jehan so that he was sitting in his lap, his back to Grantaire so he could still look at Courfeyrac.

                “Here, let me fix your braid. It looks like shit.” Jehan scoffed but didn’t stop him, so Grantaire set to untangling the many knots. After brushing it out with his fingers, he finally set about the task of actually braiding it (a rather easy thing actually; it was something his sister had taught him how to do years ago). Jehan sighed contentedly as he began plaiting.

                “I just really love him, you know?”

                “I know, Jehan. Have you told _him_ that?” Grantaire asked gently, knowing that despite being a giant sap, Jehan was really reserved with his feelings. He’d been hurt a lot before.

                “No,” Jehan responded softly, “It’s only been… six months. I don’t wanna scare him away.” Grantaire laughed softly, placing a kiss to the top of Jehan’s head once he finished the braid.

                “I doubt there is _anything_ you could do to scare him away, Jehan,” he blushed and smiled but Grantaire wasn’t finished yet, “I’ve never seen Courf look at _anyone_ the way he looks at you, and we’ve been friends since… fourth grade? You’re perfect for each other, Jehan. He may not realize it yet, but he loves you. I know he does.”         

                “Thanks, R,” Jehan muttered, the words muffled because his head was pressed into Grantaire’s chest, “I really think you could have it with Enjolras too.” He said quietly and Grantaire couldn’t help but groan.

                “Don’t do this Jehan-”

                “I’m serious, R! That thing you said about the way Courf looks at me, well I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And it may not be _exactly_ the same… but it’s almost there. It’s like he _could_ be there. If you would just talk to him, _tell him_ -”

                “Tell him what, Jehan? That I love him? That I can’t go one day without thinking about how much I want to make him happy? Tell him about how I get up every morning just for the chance to be something worth his while? I can’t. Call me a coward or whatever the fuck you want to, but I can’t. We’ve just started to be friends, Jehan. _Friends._ These last few weeks have been heaven, just talking to him, being around him more. I can’t risk losing that. You can’t ask me to do that.” Jehan looked at him sadly, nodding his head.

                “I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it. Just know that I really _truly_ think he could love you, if you would just let him.”

                                                                   ***

                “Enjolras? I need you.”

                “Grantaire?” Enjolras said, not one hundred percent sure he was awake. He looked over at his alarm clock on his nightstand and saw the time blinking back at him, it was too early. It had only been two days since he was drunk at Grantaire’s and if it was possible he still felt hung-over. “It’s 1:30 in the morning, what could you possibly need me for _now_?” he didn’t mean to sound grumpy, but this was the first time in two weeks that Enjolras had been faced with the prospect of getting more than three hours of sleep in one night. 

                “I know; I know it’s really early, but you said you owed me a favor and I’m cashing in now. Please, I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t serious, Apollo.” Enjolras sighed and rolled out of bed, knowing he could never say no to a Grantaire asking for his help for the first time in… forever.

                “What’s up, R? Is something wrong?” Enjolras walked to the bathroom to splash cold water over his face while holding his phone between his ear and shoulder and sadly wishing his night of sleep goodbye. He did vaguely remember owing Grantaire a favor, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember why.  

                “Huh? Oh, no, everything’s fine,” Grantaire assured him, but Enjolras still felt uneasy not knowing what he would ask for, “I was just wondering if maybe you could um… this is going to sound stupid.” Enjolras was smiling despite his worried tone and the god-awful hour.

                “Just ask Grantaire, whatever you need.”

                “Yeah, um well I’m trying to finish my art portfolio, it’s due tomorrow and I’m stuck. I just sort of need inspiration and please don’t ask any more questions, can you just come over? Again, no questions.”

                “Why ‘no questions’?” Enjolras very much felt this situation warranted a multitude of questions.  A plethora of questions, a surplus of questions, Enjolras could go on.

               “Because… because a promise between friends means never having to give a reason.” Enjolras said nothing in reply. “Just come, please!” Grantaire was almost whining now so Enjolras laughed and agreed.

                “Give me fifteen minutes.” He hung up and shrugged on the closest hoodie and jeans he could find before slipping on his converse, leaving a note for Courfeyrac, and running out the door. He tried to keep his step slow. He had no need to _run_ to Grantaire’s house. He wasn’t going to do that. This mindset left him taking four or five steps just to realize he was speeding up into a run and then slowing himself down only to start the cycle up again. Luckily Grantaire lived about a fifteen minute walk away from Enjolras’ so it gave him an adequate amount of time to cool down. When Grantaire opened his door he looked flustered. He had paint in his hair and all over his arms and he had bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. But most notably his blue eyes were painfully wide. It wasn’t until that moment that Enjolras realized the closest hoodie he’d grabbed was in fact Grantaire’s green one. The one Enjolras had stolen. Grantaire couldn’t tell whose face was redder, so he just ignored the fact and pushed past Grantaire into his apartment.

                “So, what am I here for again? Can I interest you in a titillating argument? How about a rousing speech about the strength of mankind that’s bound to set your cynical little mind ablaze?” he tried to be relaxed as he sat cross-legged on his sofa. Grantaire just smiled at him from the doorway for a moment before telling Enjolras to follow him. He led him down the hall, to where he assumed was Grantaire’s studio. He hesitated before walking in, but pushed himself forward when Grantaire turned around.

                “You still haven’t told me what you expect me to do.” Enjolras asked as Grantaire picked up a brush and silently stared at the canvas in front of him. When he didn’t reply, Enjolras took a moment to look about the room. Every wall was covered in different colors with no real pattern. Some splatters here and there, some random brush strokes, some various scenes or faces, a bunch of flowers branching off of the fireplace tucked away in the corner (probably Jehan’s doing), nothing at all distinguishable. Grantaire caught him examining the walls and laughed a little

                “Yeah, I know it looks a little weird. I just hate having blank walls so whenever I’m blocked I just paint any open space. This is the outcome.”

                “Sooo you’re Rapunzel?” Enjolras said with a smirk and Grantaire just laughed.

                “Yeah. Yeah I guess I am. Good one, kiddo. Brushing up on your cultural references, I see.” Enjolras just rolled his eyes and laughed.

                “Kiddo? Grantaire, how drunk are you right now?”

                “Oh, ha. That, actually I’m not drunk like at all. I think I just used the word so often ironically that I now use it… un-ironically. Yeah, I’m not proud of it but…” Enjolras laughed and shook his head.  

                “So what do I do? Just sit here? Do you want me to make conversation or be quiet?” Grantaire actually flushed scarlet when Enjolras asked this and if his curiosity wasn’t peaked before it was now.

                “Actually, I was wondering if maybe… um. I sort of need you to pose for me. That sounds sexual. Let me explain; my project is a sequence of the Greek gods? And I’m doing it based on the Les Amis. I did Eponine as Artemis, Bahorel as Ares, Cosette as Athena, Musichetta as Aphrodite, Courf as Hermes, Jehan _insisted_ on being Eros, I did one with ‘Ferre as Poseidon, which is actually currently my favorite by the way, surprisingly, he’s really symmetrical, you know? And I put Apollo off to the end because I thought it would be easy, you know I draw you like _all the time_ so how hard should it be, right? But anyway, I couldn’t do it. I’m all blocked all of a sudden and every time I try to recreate _you_ it looks awful. Like so not good enough it’s insane, so I thought, this is a situation where people like me have muses, right? So I called you.” Enjolras stayed quiet throughout the whole of Grantaire’s speech, startling at the abrupt end, and then didn’t know how to stop being quiet once it ended. Grantaire was going to paint him? That shouldn’t make him this excited. He was doing it for all his friends… did he really draw him ‘all the time’?

                “You draw me all the time?” Enjolras asked, sounding a little dumbfounded.

                “That would be the only part of that you heard. Anyway, yes, Apollo, if it has escaped your notice, your face is painfully aesthetically pleasing. I draw it more often than not,” Enjolras knew he was blushing now and it was the only thing stopping him from correcting Grantaire’s paradox, “So you don’t mind? I get it if it’s creepy. I get that-”

                “I’m happy to. How do you want me?” Enjolras didn’t think Grantaire could blush this much. He must be getting dizzy or something (ew, so cute). The question seemed to catch him off-guard though, after he seemed to register it. He looked around and then did a couple little half-turns before pointing to the couch in the far corner of the room.

                “Just sit. Or lie down actually, yeah lie down. Then I can make it like a sunrise kind of thing, some reds and oranges and stuff.” Enjolras just smiled as Grantaire rambled, trying not to laugh at how perfect it all was. How perfect Grantaire was. The time past mostly silently, with Enjolras being caught between trying not to fall asleep and trying not to feel too awkward staring at Grantaire and being stared at by Grantaire.

                “Would you mind… um… taking the hoodie off?” Grantaire asked about twenty minutes in. Enjolras looked over, embarrassed at the mention of the stolen jacket, but did so anyway, “It’s just, Apollo never wore shirts so, ugh. Yeah.”

                “Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind. At least I’m not completely nude.” He teased and Grantaire flushed crimson again. It was pretty weird _knowing_ Grantaire was staring at him. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d _thought_ he saw Grantaire looking at him for a little too long, but he would always look away whenever Enjolras tried to catch him in the act. So now, when Enjolras watched Grantaire carefully catalogue every part of his body, it was a little unnerving. He didn’t know how to feel and he also definitely didn’t know where to look. Eventually he just settled on closing his eyes. 

                “You can fall asleep if you want,” Grantaire said after a while, “I’m painting you asleep anyway, so it couldn’t hurt. If you change positions though, I’ll have to wake you up, sorry.”

                “No, that’s okay. Would you mind putting on some music, though? I always sleep better when there’s music.” He muttered sleepily. Grantaire nodded consent and set down his easel before leaving the room. He came back a few seconds later and plugged in his iPod dock. As soon as he sat back down, Enjolras heard The Decemberists gently drifting out and he murmured an impressed noise.

                “Mmm, I love them.” Enjolras whispered, already on his way back to sleep, despite how much he wanted to stay up and watch Grantaire do what he did best.

                “I know.” Grantaire said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear it as he drifted off to sleep.

                                                                                              ***

               Grantaire practically cried when he finished, five hours after Enjolras walked into his apartment. Oh yeah, by the way, he walked into the apartment _wearing Grantaire’s hoodie that he thought he lost._ That was Grantaire’s favorite hoodie. He was notably upset when he thought he lost is and he totally forgot about the fact that he lent it to Enjolras until the very thief literally wore it right in front of him! What the _hell_ does that mean? Was Enjolras trying to tell him something by wearing it? Did he think he was being funny, flaunting his stolen goods right in front of him, knowing he would never have the guts to demand it back? Or did he just wear it so often that he forgot it wasn’t his? Grantaire hoped it was the last one..

               “Enjolras! I did it!” Grantaire whispered as he gently shook his Apollo out of his slumber. He knew he probably shouldn’t wake him, as he really seemed to need the sleep, but he desperately wanted someone to share his triumph with and waking up Jehan earlier than 9:00 was practically a death wish.

                “Huh?” Enjolras asked, blinking his eyes open and running a hand over his face and through his curls. Grantaire took a moment to again commit to memory how cute Enjolras was when he first woke up. He looked around, a little confused, but when his eyes met Grantaire’s he seemed to remember where he was. A smile lit up his face and Grantaire tried to ignore the way it made his stomach flip; he really thought he’d left these schoolgirl reactions to Enjolras back in, well, school. Apparently not.

                “It is finished!” he said dramatically, gesturing widely to the canvas still sitting on the easel faced away from them. Grantaire quickly walked over there and turned it so Enjolras could see. Enjolras’ face was blank when he first looked at the painting and Grantaire’s heart felt like it did after a particularly grueling boxing match with Bahorel. Or like it did after a particularly grueling argument with Enjolras. Or like after a particularly grueling conversation with Enjolras. He waited for him to say something, do give any indication of his opinion, but he was just quiet for what felt like years. Grantaire turned his attentions back to his painting, trying to imagine what Enjolras was seeing. It wasn’t bad, not at all. And for Grantaire to say that, it meant it was actually really good. He’d always been his own worst enemy, but he allowed himself to relish in this particular achievement. Enjolras looked good. He always looked good, but he glowed on the canvas. Grantaire had painted him asleep on his side, head pillowed on his arm, with scarlet red sheets tangled around his hips and legs. Grantaire relished in the contrast between his Apollo’s pale skin and the vibrancy of the bed surrounding him. The brush strokes there were probably a little indulgent, over the top maybe, but it worked. It’s like Enjolras’ surroundings were all trying to compete with his beauty and failing completely. He added a sunrise behind him as well, but again, why would anyone look at _that_ when you could look at Apollo?

               “It’s really cold in here.” Enjolras muttered wrapping himself tighter in the old comforter Grantaire had laid on him once he’d fallen asleep.

               “Oh, um, yeah. Our furnace broke last week and the landlord is yet to do anything about it. Here, I’ll just-” Grantaire walked over to the old fireplace in the corner that he hadn’t used in like two years, but he was pretty sure still worked. They usually used the one in the living room when it got too cold (Grantaire liked painting in the cold anyway, for some weird reason, and also, why did an apartment that only had one bathroom have two fireplaces? Grantaire had never really thought about it before but now it just seemed ridiculous).

               “Wow, you really don’t have to do that.” Enjolras said with a smile as he crossed his legs to his chest, simultaneously wrapping the blanket tighter around himself so he resembled a very handsome boy burrito.

                “I don’t mind. Just let me make sure we have… aha! Wood!” Grantaire showed him it with a proud smile before tossing it in the fireplace and placing a bunch of scraps of paper around the bottom of it. He leaned in to tilt the wood in a teepee type shape, trying to remember what he learned from ‘Parnasse about starting a fire. The little psycho may have been bad news, but he did teach him a lot, actually. How to start a fire, how to blow rings with cigarette smoke, how to break out of zip ties, how to correctly butcher a goose. You know, the real important things. Once everything was in order, he pulled his lighter out of his pocket and lit the kindling at the bottom.

               “Heyyy, it worked!” Enjolras sounded genuinely impressed, “You’re like a wilderness guy or something.” He laughed (at his own joke, by the way, God he was such a dork). Grantaire just smiled and moved up to sit next to him on the couch after dragging it to be more in front of the flames. Enjolras shifted so he was lying down again, his feet in Grantaire’s lap.

               “Thank you.”  He murmured, staring at the fire as his eyes began slowly closing.

               “No, thank _you_ , Enjolras. I know this was probably really weird-”

               “No, no I’m happy I could help.”

               “You did.”

               “Good.”

               “Good.” Grantaire smiled at him, being hit once again by how completely in love he was before realizing he was really tired as well, “Go back to sleep Enjolras.” He let his head loll back against the couch cushion and Grantaire did the same and he was asleep within seconds.

                                                             ***

 

                Enjolras woke up slowly, feeling well-rested, more so than he had in a really long time. The fire was just embers now, as no one was awake to keep it alive, but Enjolras was still pleasantly warm. He looked down to realize that that would be because he had two blankets now. He tried not to squeak when he saw Grantaire asleep on top of him, his head pillowed in Enjolras’ stomach and his arm wrapped around his waist. Enjolras realized his hand was tangled in Grantaire’s curls and the second he pulled it out, albeit reluctantly, was when R started to stir. Enjolras figured it was go big or go home, since Grantaire was already waking up, so he just pulled himself out from underneath him in one swift movement, not wanting Grantaire to see how much Enjolras had enjoyed having them tangled together. It was painfully cliché, the whole situation, but it was also perfect. Enjolras was so lost.

                “Good morning.” Enjolras managed to say as Grantaire yawned and stretched and Enjolras took a moment to commit how cute Grantaire looked in the morning to memory. It was probably illegal.

                “Yes, Apollo. You hungry?” Enjolras nodded vigorously; he was always starving in the morning (Grantaire was fully aware of this fact, by the way).

                “Then come on, I’ll make you breakfast. It’s only polite to feed your guests.” They both stood up and walked into the main rooms. Enjolras shrugged on Grantaire’s hoodie again once he realized he was still half-naked. Jehan and Courfeyrac were in the living room when they got out there and they both gave a very enthusiastic greeting.

                “Hey! Good morning, lovelies!” Jehan was still in his pajamas, a giant purple t-shirt with a big kitten on the front of it that fell below his knees and his long red hair was tangled into something resembling a braid that was probably Courfeyrac’s doing. Courfeyrac was in his pajamas as well, but they weren’t quite as eccentric; just plaid bottoms and a white t-shirt. Plaid bottoms that looked suspiciously familiar…

                “Hey, what the hell Courf? Those are mine!” Enjolras tried to sound angry but he found himself incapable of mustering up anything more than irritation.     

                “Sorry, sorry! I don’t own any pajama bottoms, and when Jehan invited me over I figured I should have some so that I could be decent in front of any other guests that might be here. You shouldn’t be getting mad, Enjolras. You should be thanking me for not being in my actual pajamas. My actual pajamas are nothing, En _jolras._ I could be naked right now. So _you’re welcome_.” He finished his sentence with a flourish of his hand and a bite of his apple. Enjolras just rolled his eyes and sat at one of the barstools in front of the kitchen, so he could watch Grantaire cook.

                “Wait. Wait one second,” Grantaire said, sounding apprehensive, as he was washing his hands, “What are you guys watching?” his voice sounded cautious and Enjolras turned to look at Jehan for the answer.

                “The Wedding Singer…” Jehan sounded smug and now Enjolras was a little worried. Apparently it wasn’t the answer Grantaire wanted because he groaned loudly like a five year old.

                “No, no, because you two only watch cheesy rom-coms after a night of particularly rigorous sex. You’ve told me that before, damn it Jehan, I was _in the house_! We have _rules_ against that!” Grantaire pointed at him sternly but Jehan just laughed and Courf took another rather large bite of his apple, punctuated by a wink at Grantaire which caused more groaning on both Enjolras’ and Grantaire’s part.

                “Oh hush! You didn’t hear anything! You were too focused on painting! And we tried to be quiet, I promise!” Grantaire just rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to cooking.

                “So what’ll it be Apollo, if you still have an appetite after that? Pancakes? Eggs? Pancakes and eggs? Bacon? Omelet?”

                “Ooh, omelet, please. That sounds good.”

                “Okay, omelet it is. What do you want in it? Just cheese? Or what else?” Enjolras gave it serious thought; he took his breakfast foods very seriously. It is the most important meal of the day, after all.

                “Surprise me.”

                “Wow, feeling adventurous today. I know how seriously you take your breakfast foods.” Grantaire teased as he opened a carton of eggs. Enjolras shrugged and smiled.

                “I guess I trust you,” Grantaire beamed; Enjolras swooned, “Oh, just make sure there’s spinach. I need spinach.”

                “Got it, Popeye.” Grantaire said with a salute before getting back to work. Enjolras turned so he could watch the movie. He hadn’t seen it in a while but he didn’t remember hating it or anything. It was at a part in an airport.

                “This is close to the end, right?” Enjolras asked, vaguely remembering something about food carts and elbows and window seats. Man that guy looked like a douche, and wait, that guy in the leather- “Is that Billy Idol?”

                “How do you feel about avocado?” Grantaire asked, before anyone could answer Enjolras. He sounded genuinely perplexed as he held up an avocado for Enjolras to examine.

                “Um, I’ve never had it. I’ll give it a try though, I guess.” Grantaire began cutting it up with a nod and a smile.

                “Good choice, Apollo. You won’t regret it.”

                “Quiet! All of you, this is the best part.” Jehan cooed from the couch, snuggling up closer to Courfeyrac as Billy Idol started saying something into the overhead speaker of the plane. Grantaire just rolled his eyes and smiled fondly at the pair before shifting his attentions elsewhere. Enjolras decided to pay attention though, just as Adam Sandler started to sing. _I wanna make you smile whenever you’re sad, carry you around when your arthritis is bad. All I wanna do is grow old with you…_ he wasn’t the best singer, but Enjolras still thoroughly enjoyed the song. It wasn’t until the last verse that he realized why exactly. He stood up abruptly and walked into the living room, blanket trailing behind him.

                “Something wrong, Enjolras?” Jehan asked, sounding concerned as Enjolras picked up the remote and tried to make the TV rewind. It wouldn’t work.

                “Make it play the scene again. I wanna hear the song again. Make it play again.” He told Courfeyrac, shoving the remote at him when he couldn’t make his fingers work. Courfeyrac did as he was told but looked at Enjolras like he was a crazy person the whole time.

                “Is something wrong in there?” Grantaire asked from the kitchen, but Enjolras couldn’t respond to him just then; he was too busy almost understanding human emotions, “Why are we watching it again?”

                This time when Enjolras heard the song, every line made him think. _I wanna make you smile, whenever you’re sad_ (‘These are horrible.’ ‘Yeah, maybe, but you’re smiling now aren’t you?’), _carry you around when your arthritis is bad_ (I don’t want anything hurting you Apollo, not even a bum ankle)…  _I’ll get you medicine when your tummy aches_ (I also bought you another two-pack of Pepto Bismol, because that’s what helps me most), _build you a fire if the furnace breaks_ (‘You really don’t have to do that.’ ‘I don’t mind.’)… every goddamn line. Every single thing that Adam Sandler was offering to do because of his love for Drew Barrymore, Grantaire had done for him. Every word brought to mind something amazing R had done for him, some obvious gesture he’d made towards Enjolras that should have absolutely been a sign that he was in love with him. How the _hell_ had Enjolras missed it? Fuck. _Fuck._ Grantaire was in love with him.

“ _Fuck._ Holy _fuck!_ Grantaire!” Enjolras dropped the blanket and ran the few steps into the kitchen to find a somewhat confused Grantaire holding a spatula as he flipped an almost complete omelet.

                “Gimme one second Apollo, jeez, your omelet is almost ready.”

                “I love you.” Grantaire’s mouth dropped open (in any other situation this would be quite comical) and he heard Jehan gasp from the couch. Grantaire just shook his head in confusion, like he had heard him wrong, as he slid the omelet onto the plate he’d had ready, so Enjolras kept going. “You let me hold your remote control. You brought me medicine and made me a fire and you make me smile with stupid puns and… and you did the dishes for me that one time and you are currently feeding me and I’m willing to bet money that… you want to grow old with me?” Grantaire made a noise then, that sounded somewhere between a laugh and a whimper, but Enjolras didn’t stop, “So I should probably tell you that I’m an _idiot_ and if I’d known you felt the same way six months ago when I realized that _I_ love _you_ than these last six months would’ve had a lot more of this.” He leaned in and kissed Grantaire softly, tangling his hands in his inky black curls, but Grantaire didn’t move. In fact, the plate holding the omelet was still between them, Grantaire’s knuckles gripping the edges very tightly. Dangerously tightly, actually, Enjolras was slightly worried it was going to break.

                “Grantaire…” Enjolras said stepping back a bit and releasing his hold on Grantaire. That was enough to snap him out of his shock. He sat the plate down quickly and grabbed Enjolras by his shoulders. He bent at the knees a little so that he could look directly into Enjolras’ eyes for a good long moment.

                “This is a dream, no?” he asked slowly and Enjolras laughed (Courf also made a particularly exasperated noise in the living room, but Jehan clamped a hand over his mouth so as to not scare the two in the kitchen. Jehan, as well as all of the other Amis, had placed money on these two and if they had sex in the next forty-eight hours then Jehan would win a hefty amount of money). Enjolras slowly shook his head.

                “Not a dream.”

                “So I’m not asleep?”

                “No.”

                “Are you asleep? Are you sleepwalking again?”

                “Sleepwalkers don’t talk, Grantaire.”

                “That sounds a lot like something a sleepwalker who didn’t want me to know sleepwalkers could talk would say.”

                “Good God Grantaire, I am not asleep!” Enjolras leaned in and kissed him again, harder this time and Grantaire finally responded. He brought his hands down to Enjolras’ hips to pull him closer and Enjolras smiled against his lips.

                “Tell me you love me.” Enjolras whispered happily, once again tangling his hands in Grantaire’s hair. He looked down at Enjolras’ feet and blushed.

                “I really thought you knew. I thought I made it really painfully pathetically obvious.” He whispered back and somehow managed to look up at Enjolras through his lashes, despite being the taller one.

                “You did, in retrospect, not the pathetic part, but the painfully obvious part. I’m just also painfully _oblivious_ to all human emotions. Sorry about that, you probably deserve better.” He added the end with a mumble and Grantaire just smiled and shook his head, running his thumb over his hipbone.  

                “Hmm, no problem, it’s just another reason I love you.” Enjolras grinned and kissed him again, his toes curling and his whole body feeling light.

                “ _There_ it is.” Enjolras said in a sing-song voice, “I knew it, but it’s very nice to hear out loud, isn’t it? See: I love you Grantaire! It’s nice isn’t it? I love you, I love you, I love you.” He chanted it over and over until Grantaire’s face was red from smiling and he finally shut him up with another kiss.

                “Get a room!” Courf called fondly from the living room and Enjolras tried to turn his head to glare, but Grantaire kept his chin firmly in his grip to keep his lips pressed against his, instead throwing a balled up dish rag in Courfeyrac’s general direction. He also grabbed the omelet plate and tugged Enjolras to follow him down the hall and to his bedroom. He gave Courfeyrac and Jehan a wave goodbye and they both gave him a big thumbs-up in return.

                                                                                                                                                                       


End file.
